When I Was Your Man
by Cayah
Summary: "Simply for the fact that he broke an angel and made her cry, simply for that he deserved to rot in the deepest hell, he was a despicable demon, who had tested his blood-besmeared claws on an innocent angel." / A sad oneshot between Sesshoumaru and Kagome, inspired by Bruno Mars' "When I was your man". Enjoy!


**When I Was Your Man**

He took the ring off his finger and opened a drawer, letting it fall inside on the letter, before he reached for the picture frame. He eyed the smiling woman, who was clutching his arm tightly in her firm grasp, her eyes blazing. The ebony tresses were framing her elfish features with the big, azure eyes; her yellow summer dress flattered her nice figure. She was such a contrast to him. While her face was showing happiness and glee, his was serious and stoic, no emotion was being expressed. Her ebony hair stood in a beautiful contrast to her ivory skin, while his silver hair was resonating with his pale skin. Her light dress was accentuating the slight, summery tan, while his black shirt just emphasized his paleness. While she was clutching him tightly, as if she never wanted to let go of him again, he was looking in the opposite direction, dismissively, not present. The picture was taken some months ago, when they had taken a trip together. She wanted to make a journey or something like this for a long time, since they scarcely left the house together, he rarely took her out. He was not exactly known for his philanthropic vein – if it were up to him, he would be living as far away from these people as possible. But since they would have an anniversary soon, he decided to grant her this wish – hoping that she would stop whining. And she did. However not, because she was content.

He let his fingertips trail down her beautiful face, remembering the day and how they could have been happy – if he were not his typical, ignorant self. She had always been kind-hearted and affectionate, but he just realised it in hindsight, once it was already too late. Never did she whine because she was not content with him, she was merely seeking his proximity, but he had been too blind to notice. His heart hurt while her radiant laugh, which was as clear as a bell, was resonating inside his head; her pleasant, feminine scent invading his nose. Never would he forget this laughter or scent, he perceived both of them just as intense as the first time they had met, as intense as on the very first day. The day she had been laughing and talking with her friends, walking along the pedestrian area and not seeing him, she had run into him. She had been distracted and since her clumsiness was one of her exceptionally distinct traits, she had run straightway into him. Her breath had caught in her throat and he still remembered how her unbelievingly deep, sea blue eyes had looked up towards him, while a soft, rosy hue has covered her cheeks. Her hands had been lying on his chest, clutching at the material of his shirt, while his hands had taken hold of her elbows, stabilizing her. She had snuggled up against him involuntarily and hurried to move away from him as she realized the position they were in – she was lying in the arms of a stranger, looking with her blazing eyes right into the depths of his soul. Because that was, what she had been doing. He had let go of her and she had bowed slightly. Keeping her head lowered she apologized for her behaviour but he had not answered her in any way. He had simply watched her and as she finally looked up to him, he had walked away. He doubted having any kind of charm, that is why he did not turn it on, further he did not possess wit since he was a serious man, senseless wits and jokes were just that for him – senseless and a waste of time. He scarcely wooed women because these too were simply irrelevant for him, that is why he had disappeared wordlessly. Although she did attract him – her appearance, her scent, the light in her eyes and her hearty laugh partook of something which appealed to him. But it had not been desirable enough to turn him into a charmer. It had not been enough to make the ice surrounding his heart melt. Back then, it had not been enough for him, but if he were able to change it, he would. She was what completed him. She was more precious than all the money in the world, the priciest diamond was not a patch on this woman's worth. A worth he perceived and appreciated too late. And for this reason, he hated himself each day a little bit more. But he deserved the hate. He deserved his own hate since she was too kind-hearted to hate him, which she had repeated countless times. Even on this rainy evening, as they had parted ways, as she had shed precious tears, as she broke down – all of this had been his fault – even on this evening she had assured him, that she did not hate him, that she _could_ not hate him. Because he was too important for her, her feelings for him were too deep. Feelings, he had not been able to appreciate until it was too late. He sighed, suddenly everything seemed to be too much even for him, and it seemed as if he was carrying the world's load on his back, but he would have deserved it. Simply for the fact, that he broke an angel and made her cry, simply for that he deserved to rot in the deepest hell, he was a despicable demon, who had tested his blood-besmeared claws on an innocent angel. He deserved her deepest hate, but she was not willing to give it to him.

With one last sigh, he let the picture disappear in the drawer and locked it. He kept the key on his person, putting it into his pocket, while he let his head sink into the hands, which he had propped on the desk. His thoughts were buzzing, while images of their time together flashed through his mind. He remembered the second time they had met. His company had hosted a charity ball and he was obliged to appear. What he had not anticipated back then, was the cherry blossom and cinnamon scent that invaded his nose, while she stepped onto the stage and presented her speech. Her father had been an important business associate but she was the one when it came to PR. Her speech had been compelling by any means and she had been looking decisive and beautiful. Her hair had been pinned up and he still remembered exactly the deep blue dress, which accentuated the slight blue shimmer in her hair and her azure blue eyes. She had been looking so differently in comparison to the first time they had met. When she ran into him, she was pretty, frisky and shy. At the ball, a beautiful, convincing and grown woman wanting to save the world or at least help the children was standing before him. He would have called her a dull dreamer then – what could a single woman possibly do? She could. Maybe she had not saved the world from poverty or given every child food and beverage, but she had broken an unbending man, she had taught him how to feel by simply walking away. On the night of the ball, she was introduced to him as the future owner of the Higurashi Inc. and she had blushed as she recognized him. A smile has crept onto his lips and he took her to his table, they had conversed and he even educed one or two laughers although he had stayed as emotionless as always. Her laughter had carved into his mind and did not let go of him. It would stay with him until his very last breath, reminding him of what he could have had, but lost as a result of his own headiness, his own ego. They had arranged to meet each other after the ball. It was his first date in months, company was not in him. Hers was. But he had tossed it out of the window, just as he did with her love for him.

He looked up and stared at the wall, covered by books. A memory flashed up in his mind, a memory of one of the evenings they had spent together. He had been sitting at his desk, working, as he inhaled her scent and not even five seconds later, she had knocked onto his door. She had stepped inside and she had looked like an embodied angel. She wore white, her skin had been glowing, her eyes' deep blue had been inviting and warm. She wanted to drag him out of the house, because she thought he was a workaholic, but he did not play along. This had resulted in an argument. And _this_ had resulted into her being pressed into the bookshelf with his lips lying against hers while he held her hands immovable over her head. He remembered as if it were yesterday. The feeling of her warm skin against his, the soft body against his, her ethereal scent invading his nostrils and he heard the delighted moans from her lips. He was able to hold himself back enough to not take advantage of her right away, since she was a woman with class, a woman who had to be seduced. But he failed in doing so miserably. Instead of seducing her, he had showered her with facts why a liaison between the two of them would be beneficial and sans downside. Just as well, he could have presented her a contract she just had to sign. Eventually, the contract came about – their marriage contract. There was no big celebration, which she had wished for undoubtedly; she did not wear her white dream dress and her father did not lead her to the altar. She had not thrown her bridal bouquet and they did not drive towards sunset in a limousine, with attached cans and a "Just Married" sign. It was narrowed down to exchanging rings and the signing of the form. And still she had not been disappointed. A smile has been curving her lips the whole time she was standing next to him, an ethereal beauty dressed in a white summer dress, her azure eyes had been blazing like never before... and they did not glow this way ever again. After they had concluded the contract – because you could not call that a "marriage" – he had drawn back. He was now owner and CEO of Higurashi Inc. and the Taisho Corp and had more work than ever before. He drew back from his great wife, because now that he had her, there was nothing for him to do considering her anymore, right? They were married, wealthy and had no problems. She could spend her days with her friends or at a wellness centre, while he dealt with the work. And it went well for the first months. He never realized that the glow in her eyes dimmed down bit by bit, how her smile never actually reached her eyes again, how her skin lost its glow and her hair its shine. He had scented her tears sometimes, but he never made anything of it, he assumed she would talk to him if there were any problems, but she never did. She tried to look presentable and happy as once, when in his presence. And since he was not exactly an expert in knowing people, he never saw that something was not right, that something was missing. That she missed _him_. He wanted to punch himself for his ignorance. The pain and agony were consuming him from the inside but they were deserved, even desired. He did not want to imagine how she had been feeling this whole time when he had practically ignored her.

He averted his gaze from the bookshelf and raised himself, his hand in his pocket, clutching the key to the drawer tightly, while he walked towards the glass door leading to the balcony. He leaned against the glass and hit it hard a few times. The glass was bullet proof so it did not break under his strength. He still remembered the water running down the glass, while red roses were lying on the ground, surrounded by a constantly expanding puddle of water. This had been one of the days when he noticed, that something _was_ indeed wrong. Their vacation had been some weeks ago and her cheerfulness had ebbed away, she came back to being a robot, and her glow disappeared. But something entirely different appeared. Namely a bouquet of red roses. It had been delivered home and addressed to his wife. He had seen the bouquet and had wanted to destroy it. But he had a different idea. He waited until she came back from the get-together with her "friends" and summoned her into his study. She stepped inside and as he eyed her, he realised how much she had changed. There was little left of the young, energetic woman, who had been espousing for the life of poor children and whose eyes had been blazing in happiness as they had exchanges their rings. Now she was pale, had rings under her eyes and split ends. Her cordial smile has slipped from her features and her eyes were only reflecting weak unbelief about the fact that her husband apparently did not forget her entirely. Then she noticed the roses and her facial expressions became softer. Until he began to speak. He accused her of having betrayed him. She forswore vehemently. In his sudden outburst of temper, he had hurled the roses along with the vase they were in against the balcony door, watching how his wife cringed as tears were streaming down her face. She asserted that she would never betray him but he did not believe her. In the following time, they scarcely saw each other. They did not even sleep in the same bed. Back then, he had not cared because he was thinking that he was simply doing the right thing. That his behaviour was edging his wife away and breaking her did not even come into his mind.

He stepped onto the balcony and looked down at the pool, where the beginning of the disaster had been initiated. He leaned against the railing and took a deep breath while pain stabbed his heart and regret filled his mind. It had been a summery day and they had been invited to a similar ball like the one where they had met. She had been looking forward to going there, but he did not intend to mingle with other people, so he simply declined – none of her pleadings could have changed his mind. Her temper got the better of her and she had yelled that she would find someone to accompany her and he accused her once more of betrayal. The look on her face as he accused her of the worst with an emotionless expression and iron calm had burned itself into his memory. The tears were running down her face before she jumped up and yanked the wedding ring from her finger, tossing it at him. She had run into the house and in less than 20 minutes, she was standing by the door and waiting for a cab. The sudden rain was reflecting her feelings, while it was pouring down incessantly, mingling with her tears. He could have gone out and apologized. Everything he had to do was say those three words, to say that he was sorry. But his pride did not allow doing so, therefore he had stayed at his desk, immersing into his work. He only realized that she had left him a message when he went to bed. The letter contained all the things she had never said to him. How she had fallen in love with him, how she had been delirious with joy when they had married, when they had moved in together. How she had been confused that he did not want to have children, how she was hurt because he was sinking in his work and did not take notice of her anymore. How she had sent these roses herself, to bring to his attention that his wife was still there, indeed. How she could never be able to hate him despite his harsh words which were the only ones he had to spare for her. Because she loved him, but it was all the same to him.

He dug his claws into the wooden railing and clenched his teeth until it hurt. He bowed his head and narrowed his eyes while he was cursing himself inwardly, because he had jostled away the only person who had ever loved him, the beautiful woman who was not after wealth, fame and success, a good-hearted and loving, azure eyed and ebony haired angel...

...who was broken by a cold-blooded and cruel, silver haired and golden eyed demon.

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_I hope you enjoyed it! :)_


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